First Daughter: Rewritten Version
by A. Holloway
Summary: A discovered magical ability brings them together. A group of evil wizards bent on revenge could possibly tear them apart forever. The story of what happens when a wealthy and afluential muggle finds out about her magical ability and is automatically thrust into a world of magic, which really is not as safe as it seems. AU story, but keeps with the general plot of the books.
1. Chapter 1

_Authour's Note: Hello all! I am back, after ... a long time, yes I know, don't shoot ! I just want to thank all of my readers for being suppourtive of me as I took time off to start re-writing this, and to deal with a few personal issues. I've found out I find a lot of solace in writing, so it really helped me through when i thought I had no where left to turn. I would especially like to thank __**rhmac12 **__for pushing me to finish this chapter! and __**ykickamoocow111 **__for sharing her expertise about the series with me. _

_This chapter is dedicated to __**rhmac12**__ for pushing and pushing me to finish it. Sorry for the long way love, I hope you like it!_

_(__**IMPORTANT:) **__One more thing, I know that you guys may think that this is going to be the same as the last one, and that you don't have to review, PLEASE DO NOT THINK THAT. There will be significant differences in this version, then the last, and I really do believe that it flows better. One of the reasons that I wanted to re-write this story, is because I wanted all of my readers and supporters to read something that flowed, and sounded a lot better then he last one. Again, thank you all so much, you guys mean the world to me!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter_

* This story is Rated M for later chapters, and the re-written version

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><p><em><strong>First Daughter<strong>_

_**Chapter 1: The Story of Tom Riddle**_

"Just one more time then? Please mum?" Hermione Granger pleaded.

"Hermione." Olivia Granger said with a sigh, "I think I've told you this story enough times for one night. I reckon it's time for you to get some sleep ..."

"Please mum," Hermione said not giving up her pleas, "just once more?"

"Hermione," Mrs. Granger said slowly, trying to stay patient with her daughter, "it's time for bed love. You were supposed to be asleep by now, and I have to go downstairs to wait for your father." She glanced absently at her antique wristwatch, "he should be home any moment now!" She chirped, trying to keep her voice bright.

Hermione shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "Dad is never home this early anymore;" she said "he's been late coming home for the past few weeks. He always comes home after I'm already asleep."

Olivia Granger's stomach lurched painfully at Hermione's daughter's words.

Hermione Granger was observant, smart, and strangely perceptive for someone of only eight years of age. Of course she had noticed her father's absence had been increasing over the last couple of weeks. She noticed but payed little attention to the extra money and spoils they had been receiving. She did, however, care that her father was no longer there to tuck her in, or to kiss her goodnight, or to spend extra time with her during the day.

"I'm sure one more time won't do any harm," she said with a soft smile.

"Thank you mum!" Hermione said happily, making herself comfortable, and awaiting the beginning of her favourite story.

Mrs. Granger cleared her throat and began the story.

"_There was once a young, seemingly normal boy," _she began,_ "he was living in an orphanage on the outskirts of London. His father had abandoned the family shortly after his mother became pregnant because he found out an unpleasant fact about her. His mother died shortly after he was born. However, just before she died, she was able to give him a name: Tom Marvolo Riddle. Tom after his father, Marvolo after his grand-father. As time went by, and the boy grew older, all of the other children at the orphanage began to think he was odd and strange. None of them would go near him if they could help it. They all thought he was strange because he seemed to have the ability to communicate with snakes with no hand gestures, and he could make strange things happen with little or no explanation. Everyone thought he was a freak. He was never adopted. Even the people who were supposed to be caring for him grew to be afraid of him-"_

"But he wasn't a freak." Hermione but in a matter of fact tone, "he was a-"

"Yes Hermione," Mrs. Granger said with amused eyes. "I know he wasn't a normal boy, and I know what he was. Now, I'll continue on telling the story, shall I?"

Hermione nodded eagerly.

"_One summer, when Tom was 11 years old, a mysterious stranger named Albus Dumbledore came to pay him a visit. Little did Tom know that Albus Dumbledore was there to deliver him the biggest news of his life: Tom Riddle was a wizard! At first, Tom didn't believe Dumbledore's claims. But, after Dumbledore had set fire to Tom's wardrobe, using nothing but his hands as proof that magic actually did exist, went on to explain that all of his strange abilities were perfectly normal – in the wizarding world that is, and that his mother had been a witch, Tom came around to believe him. As he was leaving, it occurred to Albus Dumbledore that he had hidden from Tom one crucial piece of information regarding one of the abilities he had that he had shared with Dumbledore: Even in the wizarding world, being able to communicate with snakes was not particularly normal. In fact ... only one wizard in history had been able to do just that ... In the weeks following Albus Dumbledore's visit Tom spent long hours thinking about what all he had explained to him. __**'I'm not crazy.' **__He had thought to himself. __**'That man, Albus Dumbledore ... he told me that I'm a wizard ... That means that there are others like me. Others with the same abilities ... the same skills ... Around them ... I'm not a freak.' **__The next 7 years of Tom's life were spent at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft of Wizardry, studying and practising his technique as a wizard. Each year was more rewarding and more challenging then the last. His summers back at the orphanage were solely dedicated to reading up on different techniques, and gathering up as much logic as he could. Tom Riddle was shaped into a fine wizard while at Hogwarts. He was top of his class each year; he was made the Head Boy in his last year of schooling, and, when he was 16, he won an award at his school for special services. But, he still wanted more. He wanted recognition, he wanted __**power.**__" She said adding emphasis to the word power. "He wanted to be the most powerful wizard of all time. Following his graduation from Hogwarts, Tom Riddle got a job working in a magical shop, but, following a murder he committed to possess a rare item, he was forced to disappear. He travelled far and wide, and sank very deeply into the dark arts of magic. Very few people knew where he was. The people who didn't know where he was grew more curious and more confused as time went by. The people who did know where he was were the most evil, the worst wizards of the wizarding world; the people he had been mixing with. The people that knew where he was could only wait in patience with sly smiles. Only those few people knew what he was planning. Finally, years later, Tom Riddle had returned. But, he was different than most people remembered him. His skin was snowy white, pale, as if somebody had sucked his body clean of blood. His eyes were beady and conniving, cold, and bloodshot. Those who were in the dark about his whereabouts over the years had no idea about the dangerous magical transformations he had undergone, or the dangerous wizards he had mixed with. Many were shocked to see the state of him. Little of them dared to ask. The handsome and clever Tom Riddle from his youth was gone. He was now evil and power hungry. No longer merely seeking power people, but instead craving and positively aching for it. During his years of secrecy, he had fashioned himself a new name; one that would eventually strike fear into most of the heart's of the wizarding world: Lord Voldermort. He wanted to become the most powerful wizard in the history of magic. However, before he went on his rampage and quest for power, Riddle applied for a teaching job at the school that taught him magic – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he was, however, rejected by an old teacher who was now headmaster - Albus Dumbledore. Following his rejection, Riddle began to become more and more powerful. Years came and years went, Voldermort was beginning to pick up more and more followers. Most of his followers were entranced by his power and wanted a piece of it for themselves. The others – the unlucky ones – were put under an evil curse, forcing them to be followers of Lord Voldermort whether they wanted to be or not. Luckily, there were still plenty of good wizards and witches left, ready to fight for the good side. This angered Voldermort, he wanted this to change. One day, at the very height of his power, Lord Voldermort heard of a prophecy. This prophecy stated that his downfall would eventually come from a boy named Harry Potter. He knew of the Potter family. Harry's parents, Lily and James Potter battled hard for the good side. You couldn't meet a nicer witch or wizard anywhere in England. Eventually, the threat of the prophecy became too great for Voldermort, he decided the only way to deal with the prophecy, was to kill Harry Potter, to eliminate the threat completely. And nobody lived once Lord Voldermort decided to kill them ... He went about planning for weeks, thinking of the perfect way to get rid of the young boy, and how to track him down. Months previous, the Potter family- who had also learned of the prophecy - had gone into hiding, and few people knew where they were. After some realisation, he decided that – in regards to his plan- simplicity was key. With the help of a friend who had betrayed the Potter family, Voldermort found out where the Potter's secret hideaway was. He was finally ready to carry out his plan. Harry Potter, the young boy from the prophecy, would be dead. The fateful Hallowe'en of 1981, The Dark Lord stealthily crept up to the pathway to the Potter's secret house. With the flick of his wand, and a simple spell, the door flew open with a __**BANG!**__ When he swept into the house, he was surprised and amused to see James Potter waiting for him, wand outstretched, ready to duel with him and to keep him family safe. Although James Potter was a fantastic wizard, he was not a match for Lord Voldermort. With a flick of his wand, and a killing curse, James Potter was on his back, dead." _

Hermione's breath in took sharply.

"_Next, Voldermort moved swiftly into the nursery. There, he witnessed Lily Potter with her back to the door, __trying to comfort and protect her young son. At the sight, The Dark Lord simply laughed. A chilling, high-pitched sound. He raised his arm, his wand just inches away from Lily's forehead. Lily tried begging and pleading with him. __**'NO, please!' **__She had yelled. __**'TAKE ME INSTEAD, just PLEASE leave Harry!' **__Lord Voldermort let out a chilling laugh. __**'Stand aside silly girl and you shall not be harmed. It is not you that I am after.' **__But Lily would not stand aside and let Voldermort kill her son. She continued to beg and plead with the Dark Lord desperately; but it did no good. With another chilling laugh, another flick of his wand, and another killing curse, Lily Potter was on her back, dead. Finally, Voldermort focused his attentions on Harry Potter; his sole purpose of his visit to the Potter house that night. Thinking Harry's death would be as easily done as the first two were; Voldermort smirked slyly at the infant, raised his wand, and slowly repeated the same killing curse that had fatefully been used on Lily and James. The events following were indescribable and puzzling. Instead of killing the baby like Voldermort intended to do, the curse reflected. The curse hit The Dark Lord square in the chest, and he vanished, disappeared! Many witches and wizards celebrated his death quite vigorously, but still, some entertained rumours that he was not fully dead, that he was biding his time until he could fully return to destroy Harry Potter, or, he was somewhere in isolation, too weak to continue on with his quest. However, one thing was for certain, that night, Harry Potter, the young boy, had stumped Lord Voldermort and all of his follows that night. The Dark Lord – he who had killed many of the greatest witches and wizards of the day – was vanquished, destroyed, while Harry Potter survived, a forehead scar being his most severe injury. The question on the mind of almost every with and wizards mind in the years following that fateful night was: __**'how did he do it?' **__From that night on, Harry Potter was known as The Boy Who Lived. The boy who made The Dark Lord disappear."_

By the end of the story, Hermione was sitting bolt upright on her bed. Her brown eyes wide and transfixed, her lips slightly parted into a perfect O. Mrs. Granger couldn't help but laugh at her daughter's fascinated expression.

"Honestly Hermione," she chided, "you've heard this story multiple times, and every time you hear it, you're more amazed then the last time. I don't get-"

"Is it real?" Hermione cut in with a soft voice. "Witches, wizards, a school where you can go to study magic," she paused. "Is it all real?"

Mrs. Granger was quickly trying to hide the fact that her brain was whirring with worry, and her throat had suddenly gone dry.

"Hermione, when you were younger, I used to tell you stories all about mermaids, and fairies, and every other magical creature there is, and you never believed in them, never truly believed in them. You always thought they were simply just _entertainment _stories. What is it about – I mean, magic, well, it's not –"

"I never said I believed in it!" Hermione protested rather loudly, a red tinge colouring her face. "But- "she continued on in a softer tone, "you always used to tell me those stories out of a book. This is different; you never used to make them up. You created the Tom Riddle story yourself, didn't you?"

Mrs. Granger hesitated.

"And whenever you tell it to me," Hermione continued, "your eyes get wider, you're always more excited, more interested, more cautious, your voice has so much more passion-"

"Hermione," Mrs. Granger interrupted cautiously, "Love, I never ... well, I never created this story. Your father shared it with me a little after you were born, and even back then, he would constantly remind me that it was a story meant to be kept secret."

"But why?" Hermione cried out frustrated. "WHY is it so important? If magic isn't real, then why shouldn't you be free to write down the story properly and publish it? Why shouldn't you be free to share the story with other people?"

Mrs. Granger sighed deeply. "No more questions love," she said with a sad smile, "only sweet dreams. This isn't the right time for this conversation."

"I still don't see why," Hermione grumbled to herself as she lay down and settled herself under her light blue quilt.

Mrs. Granger leaned forward to place a lingering kiss on her forehead. She inhaled slowly, eyes closed.

"Sleep tight my love," she whispered. "Please try not to dwell on the story for too long."

"Good night mum," Hermione said pointedly, ignoring her mother's request.

"I love you," Mrs. Granger whispered.

"I love you," Hermione murmured sleepily – still in the same pointed tone.

Hermione slowly closed her eyes. Mrs. Granger got up from the bed and shuffled to the door. With the light closed, she quickly opened and closed the oak door, as not to let the creek disturb her sleeping daughter.

As she trudged down the stairs to wait for her husband, Olivia Granger cursed the day she had decided to write down the story of Tom Riddle.

And, as she settled herself cross-legged onto the threadbare chesterfield, she again reminded herself that is she had not shared the story with her daughter but instead, kept it at the back of her mind like any sensible person would have; she would now not be having tiny fears and worries clouding her mind. Even worse, she would not be having tiny fears and worries clouding her instincts as a mother.

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><p><em>Authour's Note: I hope you guys liked this chapter! Please please review! If you read the first chapter of my first version<em>_, please compare them, and tell me which version you like better. Next update should be soon hopefully, between culminating and studying for exams, i'm pretty busy. But, I will try to update faster for you guys!_

_CHEERS!_


	2. The Green Dress and the Invitation

_I know that sorry does not even begin to forgive me for not updating in over four months. So, instead of giving a long and drawn out speech, let me just say that, in the last few months, life has punched me in the face, kicked me in the stomach, kicked me in the groin, and i'm just recovering now. I've had to deal with many personal issues, that I won't get in to, including the death of one of the greatest writing influences in my life, and for a while, I considered giving up this story because it seemed pointless to go on without one of my muses. But, I decided to carry it on in her memory. So, this story is now in remembrance of Pauline Kekitch; one of the most caring, wonderful person in the world. She was basically the brains behind this story, and would always encourage me to write my best, and encourage me to grow as a writer. She was basically a second mother to me, and I know that she is in a better place now. So, this is for Pauline, the rest of this story, is for Pauline. _

_Much thanks to rhmac12 for her fantastic beta work with such short notice, for not giving up on me, and for keeping in constant contact for the last couple of months when I really just needed someone friendly. This chapter is dedicated to her as well : )_

_Disclaimer: You all know who owns Harry Potter, it's not me. _

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><p><em><strong>First Daughter<strong>_

_**Chapter 2: The Green Dress and the Invitation**_

Hermione Granger smiled in bliss as the warm spring breeze kissed her face from the open window of her hotel suite. Her eyes were still closed, having just awoken from slumber. She moved around in the bed, clutching comforter and bed sheet in her hands, loving the feel of soft fabric against her skin.

Finally, Hermione opened her eyes and let out a sigh of content. It was the first time she had had to relax in a week, and she was going to make the most of it. With a tiny smile, she reminded herself that things might actually go back to normal after the hectic year she and her parents had endured. The thought made her pull the covers back over her head, and let out another sigh of content. As sleep was about to succumb to her once more, Hermione heard a sharp ringing coming from the night side table.

_ Bring bring! Briing! Briiiiing!_

Hermione reluctantly brought the phone to her ear.

"Hello Miss. Granger!" Chirped a perky voice. "This is Ms. Grace Gruber calling from the front desk with your 9 A.M wake-up call."

Hermione groaned away from the phone. She had forgotten about the request that her mother had made at the front desk the morning before.

"Ms. Granger ..."

"Yes, thank you." Hermione said as pleasantly as she could muster.

Upon putting the phone back on the receiver, Hermione reluctantly pulled the comforter off of her body, and swung her legs over the side of her bed. Once she had donned a pair of fluffy slippers, she padded to the antique mirror at the far side of the room. For the duration of her stay, the mirror was lined with photographs of her and her parents, and her and her friends. She smiled weakly at her reflection in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair – slightly tamed over the years – brown curls.

She scrunched her nose, watching the small patch of freckles around the area disappear as she did so. Her fingers still tangled in her brown mane. She let out a breath and surveyed the pictures along the mirror: a photograph of her and her parents shortly after her birth, a photograph of her and her best friend – Ellen Jacobs- at their graduation, and various photographs of her and her parents while on vacation in the South of France.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the pictures and walked towards the window. Upon checking in a few days previous, she had spent hours staring out the window at a breathtaking porcelain fountain depicting mythological creatures she had studied while still in secondary school: Cupid and Psyche. The love story and the mysteriousness of the fountain was what had first attracted her. Her mother had even commented that the fountain looked like the perfect place to fall in love.

With a smile, she walked away from the window and quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a white tank top. Before she could make her way to the dining room to enjoy breakfast with her parents, Hermione heard a knock on her door.

"Good morning darling." Olivia greeted once Hermione had opened the door.

"Mum, dad!" Hermione said "I was just on my way to meet you downstairs, I thought-"

"Yes well, we were just on our way downstairs as well." Jack Granger said with a small smirk, "but your mother was insistent on stopping here first to drop off your dress for the dinner tonight."

"Dinner?" Hermione's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "Which dinner?"

"You know darling," said Olivia, "the dinner in the ballroom. The party for your father Milena has been planning for weeks."

Hermione's eyes widened in realisation. "Oh yes," she said, "I wasn't aware that I was supposed to attend ..."

"Of course you're supposed to attend!" Interrupted Olivia in a slightly shrill voice. "Your presence is required! Especially since your father was only elected a few days ago."

"Oh," Hermione said, biting her lip. "I guess it could be fun ..." She gave her mother a weak smile.

Olivia smiled brightly.

"Right then," said Jack making his way into Hermione's suite. "Let's have a look at this dress shall we? Your crazy mother stuffed it into this-"he gestured to the white garment bag "-the second she bought it. You'd think it was an international secret stuffed in there instead of a party dress. "

Olivia tutted and smacked the arm of her husband. "Honestly Jack ..." she murmured with a shake of her head. She made her way over to the bed in Hermione's room, smoothed out the navy blue skirt, and looked up at her daughter expectantly.

"Come on then, Hermione," she pressed, "don't you want to take a look?"

Hermione gingerly brought down the zipper of the garment bag and slowly pulled the dress out. She could feel her mother's eyes on her, waiting for a reaction.

She eyed the dress critically. It was green; a dark green, figure hugging dress, cut right above the knee. Certainly not the sort of dress she would expect her mother of all people to pick out for her to wear to an official government dinner.

"It's a bit short ..." She said skeptically.

Olivia waved a hand absently. "Nonsense darling! It's a perfectly respected length, and a perfectly lovely dress. You'll turn heads tonight!"

Jack stood and rubbed his hands together. "Call me over protective," he said, "but I don't fancy the idea of heads turning in my daughter's direction. Especially not the heads of randy young blokes."

Hermione's face coloured red. "Dad ..." she said, evidently embarrassed. "I ..."

Before she could go on, Olivia interrupted. "Alright, that's enough!" She said rather huffily. "I think it's time for us to go." She rounded on Hermione. "Make sure you put that dress away properly, it will wrinkle if you don't; and we'll be downstairs in the dining room, come and join us once you're finished."

Hermione nodded. "I'll be downstairs in a few minutes."

Olivia smiled and kissed her daughter goodbye.

Jack followed suit. But before he went to follow his wife down the hall to the elevator, he addressed Hermione.

"Max Peters." He said in a low voice.

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Pardon?"

Jack's eyebrows rose comically. "You didn't think your mother bought you that dress without a plan in mind, did you?"

Hermione's eyes widened in realisation. "You mean ..."

"He's the son of my campaign manager," Jack continued with a small smirk, "your mother met him a few months ago, and she's had a plan in her mind ever since."

"You guys are trying to fix me up?" Hermione said in a slightly incredulous tone.

Jack held his hands up in a defensive position. "Now love, you know that if I had been aware of this, no one would be fixing you up with anyone."

"Dad ..."

"But," he continued on, "your mother didn't inform me. I wasn't even aware of her plan until I overheard her and David discussing it at dinner last night," he paused, "David is on board with her plan as well."

Hermione's face coloured red. "Well I don't really have a choice then, do I? Going along with her plan."

Jack gave a small smile, "not unless you want to deal with your mother."

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><p>Ron Weasley shifted uncomfortably in his chair, in his joint office in the Aurour Department of the Ministry of Magic. Everyone in the department had been on edge over the last couple of weeks. A particular death eater glorifying group had been terrorizing land owners in previously war torn neighbourhoods across England. There hadn't been enough men, or time in the department to deal with petty crimes from the group, snatchers and death eaters who were still at large, countless trials, and the political clean-up from a war that had taken place three years previous.<p>

It was for the reason that Ron, his best mate Harry, and a handful of other trainees who were deemed "qualified" had been plucked from training, and promoted to Full Aurour status nearly a year and half before the rest of their recruitment class at the academy. Harry and Ron had both been skeptical, yet electrified about the decision. Ron's girlfriend at the time – Anna Williams– had been thrilled when told the news. The more glory he received seemed to go hand in hand with the attention she had received from the reporters. He briefly let himself consider how long it would take reporters to report on the couple's separation that had taken place mere hours before.

He shifted in his chair once more and tried to focus his energy back on the particularly long report in front of him; one of the last ones he was responsible for. _A stolen diamond ring, and... a porcelain toad? _Ron rubbed his fingers on his eyes and stifled a yawn.

Across the room he spotted Harry Potter's empty chair. _Probably sleeping in, or ... with Ginny. _He thought to himself.

He shook his head and tried not to focus on what his best mate might be doing with his baby sister. He cast a replenishing charm on his coffee, and tried to refocus his attention onto his report.

He had been working some of the longest hours he had ever experienced. Even while studying for Hogwarts exams, and on the hunt had he experienced more structure and control. He closed his eyes, and rested his head on his desk. He flinched slightly as the new forming bruise on his cheek touched the cool wood of his desk. He briefly allowed himself to think of Anna, and the slap he had received when he had ended their 'relationship' that very morning.

In his defense, they hadn't had much of a relationship. They had gotten together shortly after before the second anniversary of the war. He had had an inkling that she had only showed interest in him because of the media attention he had been receiving at the time. They had never connected on a level that was more than physical, and the couple had spent the majority of the time snogging and shagging each other. Despite the couple's obvious lack of emotional and physical connection, she had not taken well to their break up; instead she had slapped him across the face, called him a selfish bastard, and stormed out of his flat without another word. If he was being honest, he was glad to be rid of her. The slap across the face had been the most painful things about the separation.

Ron's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening and closing, and Harry's voice.

"Ron, Mr. Lang wants to see us in his office. Kingsley's just arrived and he wants to speak with us."

Ron brought his head up off of his desk, and was about to ask Harry about his reason for being late, but he spoke again.

"Oh and Ron," Harry continued as Ron opened his mouth. What happened to your cheek? It's bruising."

Ron got up from his desk and followed Harry down the hall. "Anna and me had a falling out this morning, and I ended things." Ron touched his cheek and flinched. "She didn't take it too well."

Harry barely contained his chuckle. "Well, it's about time, mate." He said, clapping Ron on the shoulder.

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><p>"Ron, Harry, nice to see you two again." Kingsley said in his booming voice as he clapped them both on the shoulder.<p>

"Great to see you again sir." Said Harry. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Have a seat boys." Said Eric Lang, the department leader, and the boss of Harry and Ron. "Mr. Shacklebolt has something very important matter to discuss with you."

"It's about a new proposal the ministry's just made." Kingsley began. "A muggle-wizard friendship proposal. This would include influential wizards, and influential muggles visiting each other's important events. The Ministry feels it would be a good idea for wizards to see members of their society integrating and mixing with influential muggles; such as the Prime Minister for instance. This brings me to the main reason for my visit." He paused," how would you boys feel about attending an official Prime Minister dinner two weeks from now?"

"He's a newly elected Prime Minister." Mr. Lang jumped in, "only a few days actually. And, of course, only the Prime Minister and those closest to him are aware of magic."

"We've invited a few others from the department, including Mr. Lang here." Kingsley said. "But the Prime Minister is interested in meeting you two especially. He's aware of your contribution to the take down of Voldemort, and he wants to express gratitude.

"And you boys have been working so hard lately." Continued on Mr. Lang with a smile, "even more so then some of our most advanced recruits. You deserve a vacation."

"So, what do you say?" Kingsley boomed.

Ron and Harry exchanged glances, the same apparent answer on both of their faces.

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><p><em>I really hope you lot enjoyed this, and that it was worth the wait. The next chapter ... has Ron and Hermione interaction, whoop! At least I think it does ... Ah well, it will be a surprise for both of us eh? : ) Reviews and comments are always welcome. I promise to get back to each of you! <em>

_Cheers!_

_PS. A large THANK YOU to those who added this story to their favourites, added me to their authour favourites, left me a review, or left me a message saying how much you liked the previous chapter. Cheers guys! You are my bread and butter, my bread and vegemite, my bread and marmalade, and my inspiration : ) _


	3. Chapter 3

_I never meant for this to take so long, but even though school is out, I've been rather busy with work, and getting ready for a trip I'm taking in a few weeks. It's a bit shorter then I wanted, but the next chapter should be longer. I really hope that you guys like this chapter!_

_Before I forget, a huge thank you to Rhmac12 for being an amazing beta, and an even greater supporter!_

_Disclaimer: I created Max Peters, and any other back-story or character not in the original series. J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter; I make no money doing this. _

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><p><em><strong>First Daughter<strong>_

_**Chapter Three: A Diamond Necklace, and a Bundle of Nerves**_

Ron stood fixing his suit in front of the full length mirror of his hotel suite.

After agreeing to attend the new muggle Prime Minister's dinner, any relaxation time he had been desperately craving had disappeared. Him and all of the aurors invited had immediately been thrust into various meetings: _"How to Blend in with Muggle Society for a Full Month", "The Proper Way to Mix with Muggle Dignitaries." _It had proven to be exhausting! The only positive thing about the extra late night was that he had been give a excuse to ignore the various owls and floo calls Anna had been sending professing her 'love' for him, and claiming that they would be able to work things out if only he would give them a chance ...

When Ron's thoughts began to drift to Anna, he immediately stopped them. The main reason he had agreed to this trip – other than relaxation – was time away from Anna's constant pestering. He attempted to focus his mind on other things; the girl he had met earlier that day. She had been shy at first, but had become easy to talk to after a few minutes of conversation, and was rather attractive as well...

"Alright?" Harry asked coming up behind Ron and clapping him on the back; snapping him out of his thoughts in the process.

"Fine." said Ron. "M'fine."

Harry cocked an eyebrow as he watched Ron's hands shake while fixing his tie.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Harry pressed. "Something making you nervous?" He smirked, "someone?" You were gone for a long time earlier; did you meet someone?"

Ron chuckled as he made final adjustments to his suit. "Actually ..." Before he continued, he absently checked his watch. "We'd better go mate," Ron said. "Alen'll kill us if we're late for this. Are you ready?"

Harry reluctantly made his way to the door. "Ready," he said.

" Brilliant!" said Ron, "Let's go."

As Ron followed Harry down the hall, he realised that all thoughts of Anna had been replaced with something much more positive. Now, his thoughts were clouded with thoughts of curly brown hair, and chocolate brown eyes...

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><p>Hermione Granger sat at the vanity of her hotel suite. The soft classical music coming from her music box was doing wonders to soothe her reeling mind as she attempted to abate her nerves for the upcoming evening.<p>

_ Knock knock knock. _The sharp rough sound pierced through her thoughts. She gently placed the silver hairbrush she had been holding back on the desk of the vanity. After a few seconds the door opened slowly, and Hermione met eyes in the mirror with the person in the doorway: her date for the evening: Max Peters.

"I know you've been upset Hermione," Max's deep smooth voice came from the doorway.

Instead of replying, Hermione picked back up her silver hairbrush and began to run it through her curls.

Seconds passed with no reply, Max fully entered Hermione's suite and closed the door behind him. He walked over to Hermione at the vanity, took the hairbrush from her left hand, placed it down, and again met Hermione's eyes in the mirror. He placed his hands softly on her shoulders.

"I _know you've_ been upset Hermione." He said slight firm tone. "And I'm not going to pretend to know why. So ..." he paused and moved his hands slowly up and down her arms; still keeping her gaze in the mirror. "I was hoping you would tell me." His voice had become gentler.

Hermione moved out of Max's grip and folded her hands in her lap. She downcast her eyes, breaking their gaze, hoping her face had not become red. He was wrong; she wasn't upset, she was ... dazed, clouded, slightly airy. "I'm fine," she said softly, hoping a fake smile would convince him of the lie. "Just a little tired."

Seconds went by, the only noise could be heard from Hermione's ongoing music box. Max decided it was time to use a new tactic. He knelt beside her and took her hand. Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. "What are you doing?" She asked, nerves evident in her voice.

Max smirked. "I had intentions to save this for your father's official inauguration, or until we," his smirk grew, "got a little more serious. But," he stood and pulled a black box out of his pocket," I think tonight, would be best."

Max opened the box to reveal an elegant looking necklace. Hermione's eyes widened considerably as she took in the sight, "My goodness." She gasped, placing her hand on the edge of the box. "Those are-"

"Diamonds, yes." He said as Hermione admired the diamond incrusted necklace. "I was hoping that this, would, help you realise my feelings for you.

"Max." Hermione said in a whisper, "this could not have been cheap. I couldn't possibly… something so ... extravagant-"

"Nonsense," said Max, taking the necklace out of the box and gently placing it around Hermione's neck. "The woman at the jewellery shop told me that this necklace has been passed down through the most affluent people of British society."

There was a pause. "It's beautiful." She breathed. "It's overwhelming."

Max smiled. "Well, it's supposed to be worn by the most affluent members of British society," he said. "That's us Hermione. People like us deserve only the very best."

Hermione said nothing. She gripped her necklace softly and watched as the diamonds still seemed to sparkle in the dim light of her hotel suite.

Moments passed before Max spoke again. "I said I hoped this necklace would help you realise my feelings for you, yes?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Well, I was hoping it would also help you realise if you had any feelings for me." Max's hand went to the back of his neck, and his face coloured slightly.

Hermione said nothing.

As quickly as Max's shyness came, it disappeared, He stood and placed his hands gently on her arms, making sure Hermione could clearly see his face in her mirror. "I really do fancy you Hermione." He said in a husky low tone. Again, his hands ran up and down Hermione's arms, and she felt his lips briefly brush on her neck. She shivered, and Max mistook it for a shiver of pleasure.

"What is it that you want?" Max asked, still in the same husky low tone.

Before the situation could go any further, Hermione stood from the vanity, and began to make her way to the door; leaving a confused – and slightly angry – Max in her wake.

Max's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What's wrong?" He asked, not moving from his spot near the vanity.

Hermione glanced around the suite, desperately looking fr an excuse to leave the room. Finally, her eyes caught the shimmering necklace around her neck.

"The necklace!" She said quickly. "I'm sure everyone downstairs would love to see how beautiful it is."

Max's face was unreadable. Finally an amused grin appeared on his face. "You're right," he said. "We should go." He glanced at his watch, "the dinner will be starting shortly."

Max was about to move past the vanity towards the door where Hermione was waiting when a scrap of paper on Hermione's vanity caught his eye.

"Hermione." He said slowly.

Hermione turned her head. "Yes."

He scrunched the piece of paper in his hand. She could detect hints of anger, jealousy, and confusion in his face.

"Kindly explain to me who Ronald Weasley is. And then, explain to me why his room number is written here, and why he wants you to visit him there after the dinner?"

* * *

><p><em>Dun dun dun! Well, that's it. I hope you all liked that chapter, like I said; the next chapter will be longer, as it's going to be three mini chapters all in one. Let me know what you thought of this chapter; negative, positive, just let me know your thoughts! Also, let me know your thoughts on Max, even if you don't comment on the chapter at all. I have a theory about him, and I want to know if you guys agree. The next chapter should be in a few weeks, if everything goes according to plan.<em>

_Until next time,_

_Cheers!_


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